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#bullet train movie
queers-gambit · 4 months
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Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs
prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.
pairing: Tangerine x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Bullet Train
word count: 3.7k+
note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?
warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.
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Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.
You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"
"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.
"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.
"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."
"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.
God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.
You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.
Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.
Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.
However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.
And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.
You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.
Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.
Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.
After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"
After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.
"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.
"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"
You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.
"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.
"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."
You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."
He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."
You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"
"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.
You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."
"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."
"Judging me now?"
Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."
"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.
"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."
"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"
"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."
You folded.
Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?
You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.
"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.
Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.
He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.
Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"
"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"
"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."
You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"
He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.
"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."
"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.
You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"
He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.
"Ah, so can't reveal the government."
"Exactly."
"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"
"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"
You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"
He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.
He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.
"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.
A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.
"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."
You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."
"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "
"Isn't that the point?"
He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.
But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.
One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.
"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.
"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."
You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.
"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."
You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."
He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"
"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.
"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.
You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.
"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.
"Oh, Jesus fuck!"
He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"
"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."
This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."
"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.
"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"
"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.
"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."
"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."
"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.
You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"
The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.
"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"
"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"
"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.
"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"
"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"
"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."
"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.
He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."
You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."
"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"
"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"
"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."
"I wasn't planning on it?"
"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."
You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"
"A bit."
You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.
"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."
You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"
He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"
"I don't even know you."
"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.
"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."
"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.
"You still owe me for those," you pointed.
"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."
You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."
To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."
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[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]
requesting rules and masterlist
Bullet Train masterlist
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Bullet Train (2022)
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nyxvuxoa · 10 months
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Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Tangerine ⤷ Bullet Train, 2022 | dir. David Leitch
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pretty-little-mind33 · 2 months
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Dress
Tangerine x fem!reader
Summary: Your best friends promised never to tell you about their dangerous job. However, all goes to shit when you find out another way.
Genre: Angsty fluff (happy ending)
Warnings: protective!Tangerine, home invasion, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, sexual innuendo/implying sexual harassment (really not as bad as that sounds lol i would just rather put a warning)? murder, violence…
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Tangerine always knew you were too kind for the life he had chosen.
He wonders if he hadn't known you so long or if you weren't as much Lemon's best friend as his, then perhaps it would have been an easy decision to cut you out of their lives.
Only, the decision wasn't easy. It was selfish and it eats him up inside, but both him and Lemon had agreed they couldn't lose you. So, they'd made a deal that they wouldn't tell you the true nature of their job. That way, you would be safe. 
You, on the other hand, aren't as innocent as they think. You've known them long enough to know their expressions and whenever you mention their profession, they become eerily silent and tense. You've seen the blood under Lemon's fingernails and the bruises on Tangerine's knuckles when they visit you after one of their so-called "work trips".
However, after countless evasions on their part, you've stopped asking questions. Now, you stay content without knowing because you don't want to lose them either. 
One evening, you hear a knock on your apartment door and your smile widens. He's early. He's usually never early. You stand up from the couch, pulling up your fuzzy sock as you rush over the wooden floorboards to open the door for him. "Hi," you start but your throat locks when you're met with three burly men in black, threatening, masks. 
You don't have time to scream out as one of them presses his hand against your mouth and forces himself inside. The other two follow quickly and you stumble backwards. The man holding you presses his gun into your side and you whimper, tears falling down your cheeks as your mind races. 
Another man hands you what looks like a burner phone from his pocket and says, "Call him."
Your vision is blurred by your tears and when the man's hand leaves your mouth, you ask. "Who?"
"You know who, girl," the last man laughs and your chest tightens. Your hands are shaky when you type out Tangerine's number. You have an icky in your stomach telling you he hadn't been the one to ask you to hang out this evening.
Hesitantly, you hold the phone to your ear and whimper when the man with the gun pushes you over to your couch. He sits closer than necessary and teasingly moves the barrel against your cheeks and up into your hair.
"Hello?" Tangerine answers, his voice hoarse. Your heart leaps hearing him. It doesn't matter how mad he sounds because it's his voice. He'll make sure no one hurts you.
You turn to the men, as if asking them what you should say. All three of them smirk and the one holding you just shrugs.
"T-tan," you whisper, your hold tightening on the phone. Your voice comes out as shaky as your hands. You want to scream but as the seriousness of the situation sinks in, you can't make your mouth work properly. 
"Y/n? Is that you, love?" Tangerine sounds much more awake now, the annoyance in his tone completely gone. 
You're the only person who calls him Tan. 
"I-I don't know who — and I don't know what they want from me, but t-they have a gun," your word vomit tears a whimper from your throat and you hear curses and movement from the other side of the line. "And I'm so scared. Please, h-help me. I need you."
Suddenly, the phone is ripped from your hands and you let out a shriek of surprise and then another whimper when the gun is pressed to your temple to shut you up. The man chuckles darkly and his arm slides around you so you don't dare make another sound.
"Yes, yeah, we know—mmhmm, yes, we will be waiting with your little friend here," the man holding the phone grins at you, "She's a pretty one, ain't she? Such gorgeous eyes when they're all glossy with tears—" he chuckles, "well shove one up yours too. Don't fucking make us hurt her. You know what we want, bring us the money and she'll survive. Yeah, yeah." 
He grunts and throws the phone across the room, causing you to jump as the other man holding you presses the gun harder into your temple.
The man who was just on the phone pinches his nose and mutters, "Bloody fuck," he turns to you and points his index finger accusingly, "You're a lucky girl, you know. Because, if we didn't really need that money, you would have a bullet stuck in that fucking pretty head of yours for the way your boyfriend speaks to me."
You shiver, wincing. You can tell the man means it. "He's not my boyfriend," you whisper. 
"Whatever, darling," he rolls his eyes and leans forward to take your arm, "Just be a good girl for us and shut up."
* * *
Tangerine feels like he's living his worst nightmare. As soon as he heard your voice on the line, from a masked number, he couldn't think straight anymore. He's currently trying to unlock the drawer where he keeps his gun, fumbling as furious tears prickle in his eyes. 
He can't shake the sound of you crying out his name. He sees you, your skin bruised and bloody as tears stream down your cheeks and he wants to punch his fist through the drawer.
He should have protected you from this. He should have known. 
Lemon walks into his room, frowning when he sees how distressed his brother is. "Woah, mate, what's wrong?"
Tangerine finally thrusts the drawer open and shoves his gun in the back of his pants. He stands and runs a hand through his hair, rushing towards the door. His voice is strained when he says, "Someone has Y/n. They're hurting her." 
Lemon's entire face drops. "W-what? H-how?"
"I don't fuckin' know," Tangerine snaps, "Now, are you fuckin' coming or not?"
* * *
You shift your hand, the ropes burning against your wrists, as you sit on the ground of your bathroom. Blood trickles down your eyebrows from when one of the men hit you and slammed your head into the sink.
The gag they had used cuts painfully into the sides of your mouth. The men had used a pair of your panties they'd found in your dresser and bound the lace around your head, finding it hilarious. You didn't find it funny, the embarrassment still lingering as you sit in the darkness of the bathroom.
Suddenly, the faint laughter from the men in your living room stops and, after a moment, you hear loud crashes. You jump, squeezing your eyes shut as you listen intensely. You hear the slamming of doors until the bathroom door opens and you hear a familiar, "Fuck."
Your eyes snap open and Tangerine kneels in front of you. He quickly unties your panties from around your mouth, his eyes dark with anger and his eyebrows scrunch with worry. You whimper, embarrassed by him seeing you like this. He tosses your panties to the side, not commenting on them but fuming inside as he cups your cheeks gently and inspects your injuries. 
"Shit, does it hurt, love?" he asks, looking at the cut on your forehead and the bruises littered across your skin.
You train your eyes on his appearance. Sweat beads at his hair and splatters of fresh blood adorn his cheeks. It doesn't look like it's his considering he looks unharmed. Tangerine looks you over quickly. "I- did they touch you?" he asks hesitantly, insinuating something from the panties in your mouth and he is clearly a little nervous to know the answer. 
You shake your head and his eyes soften. "Oh, thank fuckin' god. I'm so sorry," he says and unties your hands, wasting no time scooping you up into his arms. You lean your head on his chest, still too shocked to form any words. Tangerine places his hand over your eyes as he walks into the living room and you hear shuffling and curses from what sounds like Lemon.
You turn to look but Tangerine keeps your head still and soothes you, "Shhh, you're okay, c'mon," 
Cold air hits you and you hear Tangerine open the door to his car. He places you inside and kisses your forehead. He kneels next to the car and his thumb touches near your cut, his eyes still dark with anger. "I have to check something with Lemon," he says again and his heart breaks when you grab his arm, 
"Please, don't l-leave me," you manage to ask, your voice hoarse.
Tangerine rests his hand on yours and tries to explain, "I won't be long, darlin'. I can't leave Lemon in there alone but we'll be quick. Trust me."
On any other day you would wait for a better time to bring this up, but your mind is still all fuzzy so you whisper, "Trust you? H-how can I trust you after what happened?" you see the hurt and guilt written on his face as the truth in your words sink in. 
Tangerine has never been good with strong emotions. He doesn't like them. They make him feel weak. You watch as his expression hardens and he looks into your eyes. "I'm sorry, Y/n," he says but mechanically closes the car door on you. You hear a lock and Tangerine disappears into your building again. All you can do is bury your face in your hands and cry.
Later, Tangerine is pacing his room. He hasn't changed out of his bloody clothes and he hasn't calmed down since they'd showed you to the guest room.
You'd asked to be alone and while that was understandable, he's worried sick. Lemon is sitting on his bed, which would usually annoy him because he'd made it that morning, but Tangerine couldn't care less about that right now.
"I basically slammed the door in her face! How could I have done that?" he's obviously panicking. 
"You had to come help me clean the scene. You did the only thing you could think of," Lemon tries to reasons, something he's been doing for the last twenty minutes.
"I- I shut her out. She probably hates me."
"Y/n could never hate you. She loves you."
Tangerine lets out a groan of frustration and turns to look at Lemon, his eyes round. "Don't you understand that's the fuckin' problem? I love her. I fuckin' love her and I've been lying to her all these years and now she's hurt because of it. It's all fucked, fuck, fuck, fuck."
Lemon stares at his brother with a deadpan look on his face. "I cannot believe you just admitted you love her."
"Pardon?"
"You're in love with her. It's been eating at you for years now. It's fucking obvious, I just didn't think you were this self-aware," Lemon rolls his eyes and stands up.
He walks over to Tangerine and crosses his arms. "Shit, mate, what are you even doing in here? Y/n was just attacked in her home and she doesn't understand why. She's probably scared shitless and tending to her wounds all alone —
After you disappeared in here like a baby I asked if she needed help and she said no, but you aren't the only one who is her best friend. I know her. She doesn't want to be alone, you idiot, she just didn't want me. She wants you." 
Tangerine feels like his heart has been beaten up to a pulp and he can barely breathe. He doesn't speak and he leaves his bedroom in a hurry.
As he walks to the guest room, he feels like he's in a daze. He knows he should but he doesn't knock on the door when he rushes in. He finds you sitting on the ground, dressed in one of his shirts he must have left in the guest room by accident, applying some alcohol to the wound on your head.
Your tears have dried but when you look at him, he sees how bloodshot your eyes are and he wants to kill those men all over again.
He doesn't speak as he crouches down and pulls you into a hug. He wraps his arms around your body and holds you tightly. He hears your small sigh as you wrap your arms around his torso. Tangerine doesn't care when you unconsciously climb into his lap and hug him closer. He nuzzles his head in your neck and kisses your exposed shoulder. He's never given you this type of intimacy and while his head is screaming at him to run from you, his heart won't let him. 
"It was so scary," you whimper against him. 
He cups your head with his hand as he soothes you, "I know, darlin', I know it was. I promise you're safe now. I'm here. 'm not leaving you, doll. I'm so sorry this happened," he pulls away and caresses his large hands down your face, brushing some hair from your eyes. 
"Why'd you open the door, darlin'? You'know you can't open the door to strangers, mm?"
He isn't blaming you, he just wants to know. 
You avoid his eyes. "I thought it was you."
Tangerine frowns.
"I think they somehow sent me a text from your phone and it said you wanted to come over and I-I said yes," you feel your cheeks burn and Tangerine anger bubbles. They'd used him to hurt you. He leans his forehead on yours as you continue. "I did think it was a little weird, but I—"
Tangerine wipes at your new tears with his thumb, interrupting you, "It's okay. You couldn't have known. I'm so sorry."
"I should have known," you whisper.
"No," he shakes his head, pressing his lips to your forehead. "I should have prepared you for something like this. Lemon and I should have warned you."
You lean your head on his chest again, your breathing harsh. "I knew your job was dangerous, but I didn't think you were killing people," you whisper and you feel Tangerine tense. He rubs his hand up and down your back. 
"I-" he doesn't know what he can say to you. 
You pull away and look into his eyes, "I don't want to know," you say, "not today. Not now. You can tell me later but now I want you to hold me and tell me it'll be okay." Tangerine nods, you sound a little in shock, but your voice is serious. 
"And I want you to kiss me."
Your words almost knock Tangerine out.
"Fucking pardon?" he says, instantly regretting cursing.
You move to hold his cheeks in your hands, leaning in closer. You wait for him to make the first move, your heart beating as quickly as his is.
You don't care about his job, or that he'd lied to you, and you know he's probably not an honorable man like you'd wished him to be, but none of that matters because you need to feel his lips on yours.
You need to know he's here.
Tangerine closes his eyes and kisses you. His entire body feels like it's on fire and if he thinks too hard, he might combust into ashes. His hands find your waist and his head tilts so he can kiss you better.
Fuck this. He's so in love with you.
You kiss him back with more passion and he almost loses his mind. If he had lost you today he would have burned the entire world to make those men pay. Killing them would have never been enough.
You pull away, tears streaming down your cheeks. You look into Tangerine's blue eyes. You want to tell him you love him. You're in love with him. However, no words can leave your lips.
Tangerine sees your expression and wipes his thumb under your eye. He stands and pulls you up with him as he whispers, "Shh, you don't need to talk. You need sleep."
He looks at your wound again, making sure it's clean and then cups your cheeks and tilts them upwards so he has your attention. "Lemon and I are just around the hall, okay? I- I lo-," his sentence dies and he starts a new one, "I lo-oked over your injury and it shouldn't hurt that much anymore but if it does, you know where my room is."
Tangerine leans down and presses one last kiss to your lips. He pulls away and says, "You're safe now, my darlin'. Okay? Nothing will ever happen to you again. I promise."
He says it with such security, you nod again. Your lips tingle from his and you savor the moment, wrapping your arms around him. Tangerine is surprised but he kisses your head and whispers just quietly enough for you to miss it, 
"I love you," 
And for the first time in his life, those three words don't stay clogged in his throat. Tangerine's shoulders relax and he sighs. One day soon he'll be able to say them loud enough that you hear him. And, hopefully, you'll say them back.
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tangybug · 2 years
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bullet train + the onion headlines (1/?)
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tortelorrini · 3 months
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Mfw I’m forever blowing bubbles
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phierie · 1 month
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Tangerine from a few weeks ago, I was only going to copy the pose originally but liked the background and colours so made it into a sort of photo study (bloody tarp added by yours truly)
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legends-of-apex · 2 years
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‘Atta Girl’ | Tangerine x f!Reader (18+)
rating: 18+ (semi-public smut, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, profanity)
word count: 819
summary: In which Tangerine fingers f!reader in the bathroom of a fancy restaurant. Featuring lots of Tangerine's use of pet names and encouragement.
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‘Mind and keep quiet if you don’t wanna get caught, love. Because you know I couldn’t really give a fuck if we do or not.’
‘You’re not making that easy!’ You replied with a shaky breath.
Tangerine chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the mess he was making of you. Few things got him off quite like having you stood on shaky legs with his fingers nestled between your thighs in a place like this.
Thankfully the bathroom had been empty since you slipped away with him and slammed the stall door closed, his lips on your neck and your fingers entwining with strands of his dark hair. Someone could still walk in at any moment. The bathroom wasn't even especially far from the restaurant’s bustling floor. Sound seemed to carry well in there too from the marble tiles to the soaring ceiling. Tangerine’s dress shoes had clicked loudly as he ushered you into that stall.
You had to at least try and keep quiet but he never made that easy.
‘Sorry, love.’ He responded like a man who absolutely was not sorry for any of this. You had outright asked for this but had wrongly presumed he’d make you wait until you got home to his place. It was easy to forget Tangerine was compulsive enough to finger you in a restaurant bathroom. ‘The worst that can happen is someone walks in and then you’ll really have to keep quiet. So for now just relax and enjoy it, yeah?’
You knew he had you. One thing about Tangerine is that he always makes sure to support your body and keep you close. So you decided to relax and trust that he had you, as he always did.
‘That’s it. Atta girl.’ He praised when you relaxed in his hold. 
He liked watching your face as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, as he curled them to make your thighs quiver and shake. When you flung your head back against the wall of the bathroom stall it was like dangling a carrot on a string, your neck was just begging to be kissed. So he pressed his lips to it. The soft prickle along your neck from the hair upon his upper lip made you gasp.
‘I wish we were home right now so I could fuck you good and proper. You’d like that wouldn’t you?’ He mumbled against your skin and you groaned at the thought. ‘We wouldn’t even make it to the bedroom, love. I’d have you sprawled out on the fucking dining room table with your dress still on and all.’
He loved the way sweat gathered and glistened on your sweet skin, the sheer desperation for release that laced your every movement, your every half-swallowed cry.
‘God, look at you.’ He admired, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you look right now?’ 
Your clit pulsed beneath his thumb as he pressed down on it in smooth circles. His pace was steady and thorough enough that you cried out so loud he had to kiss you to muffle the sound.
‘Careful.’ He warned. ‘As much as I love the sound of your pretty voice we don’t want to cut this short now do we?’
You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and waistcoat until your fingers cramped; Anything in a bid to relieve tension as he flexed his fingers inside of you so deliciously. It made him want to ravish you, to wrap your legs around his waist and have you right against the stall.
‘I’m close!’ Your voice wavered. The pace of his fingers sent heat down your back, pooling in your stomach like white-hot amber. Your entire body tensed. Your breath fell so heavy and quick.
‘You gonna come for me? Come on now, I know it’s gonna be beautiful.’
So you let the floodgates open.
He kept up the pace of his fingers even as you buried your head in his shoulder to muffle yourself, to keep your voice from bouncing off the walls. You barely even registered that he was praising you until you felt his lips on your forehead and the fullness dissipating along with his fingers from within you.
‘You alright, gorgeous?’ He asked with a gentle gaze and the softest touch to your cheek. ‘You did so well.’
You nodded and still held onto him as you caught your breath and your limbs softened. Tangerine was in no mood to rush your recovery. Instead, he took to smoothing your dress back down for you before pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist. His clothes were just as much of a mess as yours were from your clawing at them but he couldn't bring himself to care.
‘Do you think our food’s gone cold?’ You questioned once your breath evened.
‘It most certainly has, I reckon.’ He replied with a laugh.
Tagging: @icy-spicy​​ @simpingforclaudette​​ (Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the Tangerine tag list <3)
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padsmoony04 · 1 month
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I'm UNWELL
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Aaron Taylor Jonhson for the new Giorgio Armani fragrance 2024
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bullet-train-2022 · 2 years
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Character posters for Bullet Train (2022)
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queers-gambit · 4 months
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Love What You've Done with the Place
song by Rascal Flatts
prompt: he's never been a man built for relationships, until you come into his life. now, the house feels like a home.
pairing: Tangerine x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Bullet Train
word count: 1.8k+
warnings: more brain rot rambles, probably cursing, NOT edited, very docile, fluff, romance, hardened men being simps.
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It started with clothes. Just a few, here and there; left behind, forgotten, purposefully stuffed in his dresser for when you stayed the nights. He didn't mind, in fact, Tangerine encouraged you to bring whatever you felt comfortable with leaving since he hated how early you'd leave in the mornings to get ready for work. He found his mornings were peaceful when you were around; neither rushed, both content, starting your days on high notes with each other.
So, he made the decision and found an old sitting-vanity for you. He put it in his bedroom simply because he was fascinated with the hair and make-up process; thinking it was incredible that women had such skill. When he came home about 3 months ago, he noticed your vanity when he first got home from a particularly difficult mission. Your chair was draped in an old university tee shirt, and he smiled.
It was like watching your comfort grow and it warmed something deep in Tangerine's heart. Your make-up wasn't always in a neat array, sometimes just left from a quick touch-up; making the house feel more like a home.
Tangerine also bought a strainer for the shower's drain to catch your hair. He didn't get angry like previous boyfriends did when he found strands of your hair left behind - not on purpose or by some gross standard, but it was natural that hair shed in a shower and not every single strand could be picked up. So, to make life easier, he just quietly bought the hair trap, placed it, removed whatever empty bottles from the shower, and went about his day. But then he started to notice your hair left other places.
His counters, his sink, the floor, your vanity, his bed sheets and pillows.
Tangerine had his issues with possessiveness in the past, but this wasn't remotely similar. No, Tangerine found himself smiling when he would find your hair in his clothes; thinking it was funny, almost like a mark or badge of honor to designate him as yours. It was a brief thought, but Tangerine actually felt giddy by the idea of people just knowing he was off the market 'cause his lady's hair was clung to his suit jackets.
He liked it. He really did. He'd not admit it aloud, but he liked it.
Tangerine wasn't the most humble man in the world, but he certainly liked to flash what was his. Golden jewelry, expensive, tailored suits, shining Italian leather shoes. And now, you, the woman who invaded his heart and head - and now his home. He adored showing you off, feeling affirmed and invigorated by the longing glances men threw your way, and while he expected jealousy from other women, they seemed more impressed by your beauty and grace as well.
He remembers one night, after a several weeks long mission, he just wanted to hold you. His throat was a little choked up when he called you, knowing you were at home after reading an earlier text. So, you rushed over in the middle of the night and he'd yet to let you go home - three days later.
"You've gonna have to let me out of bed sometime," you smiled playfully. "I have work tomorrow - and no, I'm not calling out again."
"C'mon, love, don't leave me alone," he whispered, looking like a beaten down puppy. The mission was much harder than he'd let on, but Lemon usually always filled you in. He thought it was important for you to know certain details that Tangerine was sure to omit, knowing those were the details that haunted him.
"I'll be back after my shift," you promised, nuzzling his nose with your own. "I also need new panties and clean clothes."
He sighed, "Some in there," he pointed to his closet now.
"What?" You giggled.
"You've left enough behind, got a bit of a collection goin', yeah?" He smiled softly, wrapping you back up in his arms. With a sigh, he relented, "I'll let yah go to work, love, just... Need this a bit longer."
You obliged, but the next day, you were gone before he woke up. With a frown, Tangerine dropped back onto the bed - but inhaled deeply when his nose buried into your pillow. He hummed in pleasure, feeling himself brim with contentment, bringing the fluffy item to his chest and nuzzling it; your perfume left behind to soothe him.
Was Tangerine clingy? Oh, for sure! He didn't think so, but you knew better. The contract killer liked you close, liked his hands on you; even if it was just a hand on your waist or a nose near your neck. He missed you when gone, but he usually held himself back from texting you all day - wanting you to be able to focus on your job.
But that day? He was inept, just wanting you; wondering if he paid you the same salary, if you'd consider just staying home. So, he texted you several times.
This obviously threw you off a little, knowing him better than himself most days. But he just missed you, so, you sent a selfie - promising you missed him too and would be home right after work.
He saved the photo and tried not to dwell on how you said you'd "be home" and not "come to his place". He had to take a few moments to calm down, feeling his heart zing with unfamiliarity - but not being afraid of it like he had been when you first started dating. He could recognize he was happy, that he was excited to see you everyday, and that the idea of coming home to you was far too appealing to ignore any longer.
It seemed neither of you needed to actually have an official conversation about living together. Lemon didn't mind, in fact, he was the one who insisted you have your own key; adoring you and whatever affect you had on his emotionally constipated brother. So, some mornings, Tangerine wasn't surprised to find a slightly damp towel left hanging in the bathroom, nor by the make-up on his counter - you using that mirror because of the fluorescent lighting. He never put it back, he didn't move it - he liked seeing it. It meant you were still here, and the idea of it being gone made his stomach knot with anxiety. He also wasn't surprised when he went to use the shampoo you insisted would help his curls flourish (you were right), only to find it damn-near empty. His shower gel, too.
When you came home that evening, you had Target bags in hand; replacing whatever was empty, making Tangerine grin to himself by how in-sync he felt with you. He'd never had a connection such as this, only ever feeling close enough to Lemon, but you changed everything for them both.
How Tangerine ended up with someone courteous was truly beyond either of them. Someone kind, caring, adventurous, sweeter than pie - someone definitely out of Tangerine's league, something he never let himself forget. He adored you to your core - thinking someone such as you should never have gotten tangled up in someone like him, but he knew, if the time ever came, he'd never be able to let you go. In fact, most days, he had to convince himself not to just pick you up and carry you around while he did chores or ran errands.
The very idea of losing you sent his heart into his stomach; hallowing his chest in a harrowing fashion that made it hard to breathe. Just a week or two ago, Lemon found Tangerine in the kitchen, hand to his chest as if he couldn't catch his breath, heaving for air; his worry spiking, but quickly realizing what was wrong.
"Bruv, you've gotta breathe - calm down," he tried to coax. "You're having a panic attack, you've gotta just focus on breathing."
"Fuck off with that!"
"Seriously, man," Lemon insisted, catching Tangerine in a vulnerable state enough that he actually listened without much of a fight. When Tan seemed a little more under control of his own emotions, Lemon asked, "What the hell happened?"
Tangerine shook his head, "Nothing t'worry 'bout - "
"Bullshit," Lemon snapped. "I've never seen yah like that, mate, the fuck happened?"
It was embarrassing, but Tangerine managed to answer, "Just... Just started thinking that if she ever left me, I'd fucking crumble, mate."
This made Lemon frown, "She's not gonna leave you, man. You know that. The girl's madly in love with you, yeah? Like madly in love - like to a degree it makes her stupid in the head, all right? Obviously, you too," he chuckled, shaking his head as he affectionately ran a hand over the back of Tan's head. "You're workin' yourself up, 's all right. You don't have to think about that - ever - 'cause she's it for you, mate. Yeah? Hear me? She ain't goin' nowhere, not without you."
Tangerine needed the assurance. Being alone after having a taste of your love felt impossible to Tan now, something he was never bothered by before. Seriously, why give a fuck about a relationship when he had his brother? Someone who loved him unconditionally and wouldn't leave? And then he met you and understood why people gave fucks about relationships.
It was as if every room you ever entered was brightened up simply by your smile. Your laugh wasn't always the most ladylike, but it was genuine and true and always made Tangerine smile to himself. During any public outing, Tan was always close - we've established this - but he liked to play a small game. One of your love languages was physical touch, so, you liked kissing him if even just for a single second. He was aware of your lipstick, feeling the tacky substance stain his cheek, but he wouldn't wipe it off. His game was to see how long it'd take before someone would point it out; his reputation didn't always warrant others to feel secure enough to speak up. Some nights, Lemon would motion to his cheek, and other nights, you'd return home, remove your make-up, and swipe make-up remover over his cheek to clear the color away.
However, it wasn't often you ventured in public due to Tangerine's innate introverted nature. You went if The Agency made it mandatory or if you were feeling stir crazy, but majority nights, Lemon would find you both lounged on the couch in various positions.
Sometimes, you'd be watching a movie together or binging a show. Other times, you were reading a book while Tangerine poured over paperwork. And once or twice, Lemon's come home to find you belly laughing and playfully scolding Tangerine as he tried to paint your toe nails. It was a homey sight to Lemon: seeing his brother so in love and at ease, hearing your laughter, the entire flat filled with warm smells of burning candles and homemade meals.
It wasn't evident at first, but with you laying in Tangerine's arms, clothes left on the floor, bellies full of whatever meal you had prepared that evening, favorite show playing on the bedroom TV, he realized that he loved what you had done with the place.
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requesting rules and masterlist
Bullet Train masterlist
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mmiiho · 2 years
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god hes so fucking cool (you should watch the movie)
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nyxvuxoa · 10 months
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Tang-"It's-illegal-to-look-this-good"-erine ⤷ Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Bullet Train, 2022 | dir. David Leitch
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No body, No crime
Tangerine x fem!reader
Summary: You meet a sexy, dangerous, stranger on a train. And he somehow ends up kidnapping you?
Genre: Hurt and comfort, fluff, angst (kinda?)
Warnings: no actual kidnapping lol, canon type violence, crying, protective!tangerine, aloof!tangerine?, pet names, blood, swearing (duh)
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You have never been this anxious on a train until now.
A man dressed in a fancy navy suit covered in blood has just pinned himself to the wall of the train, your back pressed to his chest as his hand covers your mouth tightly.
"Tsk, luv, t's ok," he whispers hoarsely, his accent thick, "If they see ya, then they'll kill ya," he continues, "I don't like this anymore than you do, doll, but I can't let'em kill an innocent girl can I? So you'll have to stay quiet for me, you understand?"
You squirm in his arms, which is the only way you can think of asking him to let you go. You want to promise him you won't tell a soul about the gun-shots you heard or how he had pinned you against him, but you can't make a sound behind his hand. So, you make the quick decision and bite his palm hard enough for him to drop his hand with a small hiss. 
However, you aren't quick enough to make a run for it since his hand grips your arm and spins you around. You slam against the wall, your chest against his, and you look up into his eyes.
Shit, you think, they're the loveliest blue you have ever seen.
"What the fuck, darlin?" he says, gripping his arms around you now. He's staring at you with a stern, rather intimidating, expression and you feel conflicted.
"I-" you stammer, entranced by just how handsome this man is. Suddenly, you hear louder, closer, crashes and then the sounds of gunshots and your freeze. You find yourself looking up at the man for reassurance.
He doesn't give you any.
"Bullocks," he curses under his breath and looks around you. You follow his gaze but see nothing. When the man looks at you again, his eyes look only a little reluctant, "I am sorry about this, darlin'."
You don't have time to process what he means because he's slamming the side of your head into the wall, hard, and then everything turns dark.
* * *
When you wake, you blink. You're laying in the back of someone's car. You groan, touching your temple gently and sensing a little dampness. You sit up only to realize you had been laying on someone's lap. 
You look up and your eyes widen. It's the same man only this time he's absolutely drenched in blood and bruises litter his skin. His hairline is wet from sweat, which only ends up accentuating his curls, and he looks at you, sensing your movement, and smirks. 
"Hello, luv," he says and you shoot up, scrambling to the opposite side of the car. Your heart beats almost pounds out of your chest as you stare at him with large, frightened eyes. His voice is a little harsh when he says, "We ain't gonna hurt you."
You look towards the driver. He's a dark-skinned man with dyed platinum hair who looks just as disheveled and bloody as his friend. "Y'know perhaps she'd fuckin' believe ya if ya sounded like it?" 
"Fuck you," the blue-eyed man snaps, his eyes narrowing. He pauses a moment but then looks at you again and says, just a little softer this time, "I promise, on this fuckin' jackass's head, you're safe with us." 
The driver rolls his eyes. "Real classy," he mutters.
"Who are you?" you find the bravado to ask, your voice hoarse. You move your arm, you're adrenaline calming, and you feel a sting.
When you look down you see there is a fabric wrapped around your forearm but it's still seeping blood. "How the hell did this happen?" you think as you move your arm cautiously.
"I'm Tangerine, and he's Lemon." The man, whom you just learned was Tangerine, says. He looks at your arm, "Sorry luv, you got hit a little when the train crashed. Must've hit your head again too because you didn't wake for a while. Thought you'd died."
"Oh," you whisper, "and why did you kidnap me?" you ask after a moment, looking around the car — which looks like a taxi. Something catches your eye. Tangerine’s sleeve is ripped up. You look down at your arm and realize the fabric binding your wound matches his shirt.
He patched up your arm with his shirt. 
"Kidnap you?" Tangerine exclaims, mouth curling upwards into a sneer, "No, we just saved your ungrateful arse," his tone is harsh and Lemon tuts, snapping his head to look at his friend. 
"You're being fuckin' scary, mate," he warns, "can't ya see she's scared." 
"I'll shove one up your," Tangerine starts but then he turns to you and his words die in his throat. You're holding your arm, tears brimming in your eyes as the reality of the situation sinks in. You stare at Tangerine, watching his expression shift and he almost looks concerned.
Almost. 
"As I said, doll, you are safe now," he assures you, calmer. He looks you over with a small smile, "We're takin' ya home where we'll help clean your wounds and you can sleep. As soon as we know you're okay, then we'll take you wherever you want to go. We aren't kidnapping you, sweetie, I promise."
You nod, wiping at your tears, as you lean against the car window. You don't want to talk anymore. The car ride is silent until Lemon parks the taxi in front of a house. Tangerine is the one who helps you out and then he slaps his hand on the hood and Lemon, from inside the taxi, nods. He drives away and Tangerine turns to you. He crosses his arms. 
"This way, luv," he holds open the door and you follow him inside. You clutch your arm and admire the interior decor; all modern and fancy, as Tangerine leads you to a small bathroom near the stairs. "Come 'er," he whispers as washes his hands. 
You walk in timidly, watching his movements. He's calm as he focuses on the water and he feels your staring, "Can you jump onto the counter alone or do'ya need my help?" Tangerine asks with a smirk.
Cheeks aflame you use your non-injured arm and lift yourself onto the marble counter and wince when Tangerine rolls up his sleeve and presses a cotton-ball to the bruises and cuts that litter your face. 
"Mmm," he hums as he works, his eyes focused only on the way you flinch. "You gotta sit still for me."
"It hurts," you whimper when he moves to look at your arm. Tangerine doesn't seem amused.
"I know, darlin'. But, if I can't look at it then I can't help you, can I?" he says calmly. He looks at the wound, the fabric of his chemise abandoned on the bathroom floor, and frowns. "Fuck, I have to stitch this up for you."
Your eyes widen, "You?! Are you a doctor?"
Tangerine's movements pause and he narrows his eyes as he stares at you intensely. "Ya, didn't ya see my nameplate on the door?" It's sarcastic and you don't find it funny as your lip quivers. Tangerine sighs. "Now listen here. No tears, alright? I know you'll be fine. The pain'll only last a minute. Trust me."
Trust him. How odd a sentence for some random stranger who had basically kidnapped you. Still, you nod and let him stitch your wound.
Tangerine had lied. It was painful for more than just one minute, but when he pressed his lips to your forehead for a mere second after the ordeal, the pain was instantly a distant memory. 
His thumb caresses your cheek and, for the first time all night, he smiles a little. Tangerine drops the needle onto the face-towel near your hip and runs his bloody hands under water, washing them again. You wipe your blood from your cheek, the mark his thumb had left, "Sorry," he chuckles as he takes your arm again and this time he applies some vaseline to the wound and then wraps a gauze, non-stick, bandage around your arm. "You were brave, princess. I'm impressed." 
"Thank you," you whisper, looking into his eyes.
"You're welcome, and don't mention it," Tangerine's sweet smile is replaced by a smirk as he pats your thigh, indicating you can jump down now. He runs a hand in his curls and checks his own appearance in the mirror. "Seriously, don't mention it," he insists absentmindedly and then looks at you from the corner of his eye, "And unless you want to see me shower, love, I suggest you leave now. Wait in the room."
He says it so casually but you feel like your heart could explode. You nod and quickly walk out, closing the door behind you.
"Oh, would you happen to have some aspirin?" you wince and then ask timidly. You hear shuffling. When the door shuffles open you see Tangerine's hand come out and he hands you a medicine bottle. With a small thank you, you take it and walk down the hallway. Tangerine hadn't told you where his room was, or where you could find water for your aspirin.
You almost slam into Lemon, who's wiping his hands on his jeans and he seems surprised to see you. "Oh, I see my brother took care of ya, did he?" Lemon smirks and looks you up and down.
"Brother?" you whisper. 
Lemon looks amused, "Yeah. We're twins," he says casually. 
You stare at him, confused, but just nod in agreement. Lemon chuckles and sees the aspirin in your hand. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and guides you to the kitchen. "Love seeing people's reactions when I tell 'em that," he smirks and runs you a glass of water. "So, what's your name, bird?"
"Y/n," you say as Lemon hands you the glass and you take the medicine. 
"Cheers," Lemon claps his hands and looks you up and down, "So, did Tangerine say where he wanted ya to sleep?" You shake your head a little sheepishly and Lemon rolls his eyes, "no bother, here, you can just sleep in his room."
"His room?" you squeak as Lemon plucks the glass from your hand and ushers you into the hallway and up the stairs this time.
Tangerine had said to wait in the room, and you had assumed he meant his room, but now you aren't so sure. 
"Yup," Lemon says with a smirk, popping the 'p' playfully as he opens the door to what you assume is Tangerine's room. It's a decent sized room, dimly lit with an organized desk and navy blue sheets. All the furniture in this room looks expensive. "He saved you, you're his responsibility."
Lemon pats your head and then leaves with a hum. You stand in the room, still dressed in your dirty, blood-covered clothes. You're too afraid to sit on any surfaces so you stand and look around.
Just as you almost pick up a picture from Tangerine's desk, he comes in with a towel wrapped around his waist as he shakes his hair out from his shower. Your eyes widen; his chest is painted in scars. 
"What the fuck are you doing in here?" he sneers, pausing in the doorway.
"I'm sorry," you hurry to explain, suppressing your tears as you're overwhelmed by this entire situation, "your brother said I could sleep in your room—that I was your responsibility," your voice comes out small and meak. Tangerine rolls his eyes.
"Bloody hell, there's no need to cry, darlin'," he says a little rudely and your eyes widen. Your hands shake by your sides, tears brimming in your eyes as you take in his words. 
"No need to cry?" you start, your voice rising, "No need to fucking crying? Are you fucking serious?!" 
Tangerine seems surprised by your outburst and he just stares as you word vomit all over him.
"First, the train I was on to visit my sister was fucking attacked and then when some asshole knocked me out I wake up in some random taxi, injured and bruised, as two random men—including said asshole that perviously hit me—can't give me their real fucking names, or any coherent answers as to why I'm there. They bring me to their home, stitch up my wounds—which I do thank you for. But then they act all normal and calm and I'm just not supposed to feel like crying? After all that has happened?"
You take a breath and then continue, "You could really be a little nicer to me, you know! I'm filthy and still in pain a-and I just want to go home but I lost my phone," the dam suddenly breaks and tears rapidly stream down your cheeks. You shake and sob, covering your face with your hands and arms as embarrassment takes over. 
You feel Tangerine walk closer but he doesn't hug you, instead he looks at you and says, "I'm not good with feelings, darlin'," he admits, "I would comfort ya if I knew how. Can you look at me?"
You shake your head, still feeling embarrassed, "This is so humiliating," you choke on your saliva and Tangerine sighs, wiping his thumb under your lips. He shushes you and without another word turns around to rummages through his dresser and hand you clean clothes (which consists of one of his band-shirts you assume is from high school and sweatpants that haven't been worn in twenty years). 
"C'mere," he says and hands them to you along with a towel. "Shower is downstairs, as you know. Can you shower without wetting your arm?" he asks and you nod quickly. You'd have to. The alternative is help or no shower, and you want neither of those.
"Cheers. Then, when you're changed you can come 'er and sleep. I'll sleep on the couch downstairs. Tomorrow we'll find a phone you can use and call your family. You'll be okay," he says it so calmly it's almost eerie but you can't help the comfort his words bring. 
You nod and turn to walk away and once the door shuts behind you, Tangerine lets out a small breath. He runs a hand in his hair and pinches his nose.
If Lemon saw him now, genuinely concerned over some random girl's tears, he'd laugh at him. But, Tangerine can't shake the image of you crying from his mind. All he wants is to make you stop and hold you close. He wants to protect you from the horrors of the word.
God, he's so fucked.
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pinksminaj · 2 years
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Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Tangerine in Bullet Train (2022)
(my gifs, give creds if used)
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arysbruv · 4 months
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Brotherly help
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The new assassin on the block, you had been tasked to a quick mission with the infamous Lemon and Tangerine. Unbeknownst to you, you accidentally gain a crush on one of the brothers, so what else can you do other than enlist the help of the other one?
Pairing: tangerine x reader
Warnings and whatnots: Jealous!Tangerine
You had a dilemma. A dilemma that included being paired with a set of twins who were incredibly skilled, one of which you had the misfortune of crushing on.
You were a relatively new assassin, but you quickly made your way up in the ranks. That was why you were paired up with Tangerine and Lemon.
It felt odd, to work with them. They were nice, but you always had a sick feeling with them like your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw them. Especially when you saw him. You’ve only worked with them once, during the Bolivia job, but the feeling still remained. Eventually you deduced the problem.
You had a massive, giant crush, on Tangerine.
“Everything alright there?” Lemon asks you as you sat next to him, tapping your fingers on the table. The bullet train moved fast, making you nauseous. It didn’t help that you were sitting face to face with Tangerine. His leg was practically brushing yours and he didn’t even seem to care! He seemed fairly calm.
“Yeah I’m fine… Motion sickness ya’know?”
Tangerine raises an eyebrow at you, his eyes piercing into your soul like he knows you’re lying. You give him a tight lipped smile, before looking at the White Death’s son.
“Is he gonna be okay?” You ask, trying to change the topic.
“He should be awake in a few hours. Nothing to worry about, love.”
You hated it. Hated when he called you that. Hated when he called other girls that. Love. What a disgusting word.
“I need to go to the washroom.” You say, standing up curtly and making your way to the washroom, hoping that they thought you were going off to vomit your guts out; maybe you were.
You stood in the washroom, staring yourself in the mirror before splashing your face with water. You grip onto the sink, before looking up and promptly screaming at the man in the mirror.
“Goddamn it Lemon! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You shout.
Lemon doesn’t say anything, only closing the door behind him and locking it. You tilt your head at him.
“Is everything alright? Why are you so off? You’ve been like this since the start of the job.”
You should’ve known he would’ve found out. You should’ve known from the day he called you an Edward. He was weirdly good at reading people, even more so with classifying them as Thomas The Tank Engine characters.
“I’m fine…”
“Don’t be a Diesel.”
“I’m not being a Diesel!” You scoff.
“Then?”
You stare at Lemon, who looks at you expectantly. You try to think through all the possible possibilities that could happen if you told Lemon you had a crush on his brother. Would he tease you? Be disgusted? Eh, who cares, you’ll still get your money, and what’s a bit of humiliation.
“I may or may not have a thing for… Tangerine.” You spill out.
Laughter fills the washroom and you can feel your cheeks heat up. “Shut up!”
“You have a crush on my brother? Oh my, it was so obvious. Please, is that what you’re all worked out about?” Lemon asks, regaining composure.
“Yes, now shut it. I don’t need to embarrass myself any more than I already have.”
“Well now wait a bit, I can help you with this situation. To be honest, I do think Tangerine has a slight thing for you, only he’s too ignorant to realise it… So let me help you.”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly.”
“And how exactly are we gonna get Tangerine to realise he has feelings for me?” You ask, suspicious. Lemon gives you a smile.
“We make him jealous.”
This was an utterly stupid idea but it might just work. It was easy; laugh and smile at all of Lemon’s jokes and stories and just be unusually touchy with him. Still, you felt like an idiot doing this and Lemon could sense it. Lemon had asked if you were okay with it and you had agreed. So here you were, executing this dumb plan.
You walked back to the table where the Tangerine was sitting, your arm looping with Lemon’s and your other hand, caressing his shoulder. Lemon sat down first, and you squeezed in next to him. Tangerine looks at the both of you with a confused and suspicious expression. He turns his attention to you.
“Are you alright love? You spent a long time in the washroom.”
That pet name again. You try to hide how flustered it made you feel. You smile at him.
“Yeah, just some stomach problems. The train is going too fast. Thankfully, Lemon gave me some medicine to help me get through it.” You give a sickeningly sweet smile to Lemon, hoping your time learning to act will come in handy here.
“I see.” Tangerine says, glancing at Lemon and then you. His face was slightly unreadable, but you can see a hint of confusion behind his eyes.
“Well when you both were doing God knows what, the White Death here still hasn’t woken up. So, I think we have a long while until he’ll be up.”
“Well, what should we do then? To pass the time?” You ask, looking at Lemon.
“Ah well, there’s nothing much to do is there? We can’t exactly walk around since we don’t want the little old son over there to die.”
You giggle at his comment, and in the corner of your eye, you could see Tangerine’s hand flex. He doesn’t say anything, continuing to observe the both of you. You still sat unnecessarily close to Lemon and you could see it was taking affecting Tangerine.
“Oi, why are you lot sitting so closely together?” Tangerine finally asks. A part of you is happy that he finally asked. His voice sounded deep and his eyebrows furrow.
“Are we?” You say, moving a bit further away from Lemon but still sitting relatively close to Lemon. Lemon looks at you. “I mean, is there a problem with sitting this close with him?”
Tangerine bites the inside of him cheek. “No. I’m just asking why you both are all over each other.”
That was fast. Was he already jealous?
“We are not!” You scoff, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest.
“You are!”
You glance at Lemon, who gives you a quick thumbs up from under the table.
“What the hell- What the hell is happening with you both? What are you doing?” Tangerine asks, glancing under the table.
Lemon gives you a look before excusing himself and leaving to the washroom. You look at Tangerine who stares at you.
“What? Are you not gonna follow him? Hm? Make out with him?” Tangerine asks, a hint of anger and jealousy in his voice.
“Even if I did, why do you care?” You ask, tilting your head at Tangerine. Was Lemon right? Did Tangerine actually like you? You thought Lemon was only joking.
Tangerine didn’t answer your question, looking away from you.
“Tangerine. Tell me. Why, why in the world do you care? Why do you care what I do?” You press, leaning over the table, staring into his eyes. You feel the embarrassment and nervousness rise through you but you were too close, you couldn’t just give up.
“Tangerine. Why would you care? Tell me.”
“Because I like you alright!” He finally admits, aloud. He looks back at you.
“Is that what you want to hear? I like you. Goddamn it, I think I’m in love with you and I can’t stand the fact that you seem to like my brother more than me so just shut it and piss off.”
Your eyes widen, as you lean back in your sit. Tangerine also leans back, realising what he had just said. You didn’t know what to said. He had just admitted it.
“&#!@ I shouldn’t have said that.” You hear him mutter under his breath. “Just shut it alright, if you like my brother I won’t get in your way but-“
“I like you too.”
His eyes widen when you say that, he looks at you, confused and bewildered.
“Guess the cat’s finally out of the bag hm?” Lemon says, appearing beside the both of you. Tangerine looks at Lemon before finally realising what had happened.
“You cheeky bastard.” He says to the both of you.
You give him a smile. “Oh well, it was the only to make you admit it, no?”
“Great, now that’s all dealt with, please hold your flirting until the end of the mission.” Lemon says to the both of you.
Tangerine smiles. “You know for a fact you can’t stop me.”
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